Monday, August 04, 2008

What You Shouldn't Pray For

Recently, I heard a Christian radio host say on the air how he believed that Christians should be wary of giving to God their "little troubles" in prayer.

He went on to magnify God's greatness and immanence and transcendence and saying something along the lines of, "I would be very cautious to approach such a great God with a little matter."

Hmm. Was he right? Part of me could see his point. Prayers must constantly knock at the gates of Heaven, requesting God to provide tricked out Camaros and good grades without studying. I do wonder how our prayers would change if we constantly minded God's holiness.

Take a look at what Francis Chan wrote on this in his book, Crazy Love:

"Solomon warned us not to rush into God's presence with words. That's what fools
do. And often, that's what we do." A couple of pages later, he went on to elaborate on God's awesomeness. He wrote, "Did you know that a caterpillar has 228 separate and distinct muscles in its head? That's quite a few, for a bug. The average elm tree has approximately 6 million leaves on it. And your own heart generates enough pressure as it pumps blood throughout your body that it could squirt blood up to 30 feet."
I'd like to meet the person who figured that last statistic out. On second thought, I wouldn't.

Think of God speaking into existence a caterpillar's head, elm tree's leaves, and then saying, "You haven't seen anything yet!" It sends shivers down my spine. What can't He do?

God's majesty is such that the ancient Hebrews were commanded to not even touch the mountain upon which He dwelled. As a result of His Presence, the mountain "burned with fire, and to blackness and darkness and tempest, and the sound of a trumpet and the voice of words, so that those who heard it begged that the word should not be spoken to them anymore....And so terrifying was the sight that Moses said, 'I am exceedingly afraid and trembling.'" (Hebrews 12:18-19,21)

And this is the God we pray to.

With that in mind, the writer of Ecclesiastes wrote, "Do not be rash with your mouth, and let not your heart utter anything hastily before God. For God is in heaven, and you on earth; therefore, let your words be few...for a fool's voice is known by his many words." (Ecclesiastes 5:2)

Does it then follow that we shouldn't pray to God for "little things?" Does it make logical sense that because God is holy, He doesn't care about the minute details of our lives?

A wise woman once noted how even Christians tend to be Diests. Diests, as you may recall, are those who believe in the existence of God, but deny His involvement in our every day lives. She wrote, "A Deist is someone who calls himself a Christian but thinks like a Deist thinks.... He mistrusts 'enthusiasts' (18th century word) or 'fanatics' (21st century word) who pray as if God is involved in every detail of his day."


That observation hit home with me. How often is it that we pray that God would provide divine healing for a person we know with a brain tumor, or some other issue we see as "big" and worthy of divine intervention, but we don't ask Him "to give us this day our daily bread?"

This point could be made clearer by asking ourselves how often we pray for a friend's healing, for someone in the hospital, or for something completely beyond our power. Then, ask how often we pray for our parents to have peace and joy, or for our sister's tendency to argue? I think we naturally think that God deals only with large miracles and don't bother offering up our smaller grievances as well.

In Charles Spurgeon's autobiography, the story is told of how God miraculously provided two seemingly trivial gifts to Mrs. Spurgeon. She told the story herself:

"One ever-recurring question when he had to leave me was, 'What can I bring you, wifey?' I seldom answered him by a request, for I had all things richly to enjoy, except health. But, one day, when he put the usual query, I said, playfully, 'I should like an opal ring, and a Piping bullfinch!' He looked surprised, and rather amused; but simply replied, 'Ah, you know I cannot get those for you!' Two or three days we made merry over my singular choice of desirable articles; but, one Thursday evening, on his return from the Tabernacle, he came into my room with such a beaming face, and such love-lighted eyes, that I knew something had delighted him very much. In his hand he held a tiny box, and I am sure his pleasure exceeded mine as he took from it a beautiful little ring, and placed it on my finger. 'There is your opal ring, my darling,' he said, and then he told me of the strange way in which it had come.

An old lady, whom he had once seen when she was ill, sent a note to the Tabernacle to say she desired to give Mrs. Spurgeon a small present and could someone be sent to her to receive it? Mr. Spurgeon’s private secretary went, accordingly, and brought the little parcel which, when opened, was found to contain this opal ring! How we talked of the Lord's tender love for His stricken child, and of His condescension in thus stooping to supply an unnecessary gratification to His dear servant's sick one, I must leave my readers to imagine; but I can remember feeling that the Lord was very near to us.

Not long after that, I was moved to Brighton, there to pass a crisis in my life, the result of which would be a restoration to better health--or death. One evening, when my dear husband came from London, he brought a large package with him, and, uncovering it disclosed a cage containing a lovely piping bullfinch! My astonishment was great, my joy unbounded, and these emotions were intensified as he related the way in which he became possessed of the coveted treasure. He had been to see a dear friend of ours, whose husband was sick unto death; and, after commending the sufferer to God in prayer, Mrs. T- said to him, 'I want you to take my pet bird to Mrs. Spurgeon, I would give him to none but her; his songs are too much for my poor husband in his weak state, and know that 'Bully' will interest and amuse Mrs. Spurgeon in her loneliness while you are so much away from her.' Dear Mr. Spurgeon then told her of my desire for such a companion, and together they rejoiced over the care of the loving Heavenly Father, who had so wondrously provided the very gift His child had longed for. With that cage beside him, the journey to Brighton was a very short one; and when 'Bully' piped his pretty song, and took a hemp seed as a reward from the lips of his new mistress, there were eyes with joyful tears in them, and hearts overflowing with praise to God, in the little room by the sea that night; and the dear Pastor's comment was, 'I think you are one of your Heavenly Father's spoiled children, and He just gives you whatever you ask for.'

Does anyone doubt that this bird was a direct love-gift from the pitiful Father! Do I hear someone say, 'Oh! it was all 'chance' that brought about such coincidences as these'? Ah, dear friends! Those of you who have been similarly indulged by Him know, of a certainty, that it is not so. He who cares for all the works of His hand, cares with infinite tenderness for the children of His love, and thinks nothing which concerns them too small or too trivial to notice."

Repeatedly throughout the New Testament, God makes clear that He wants us to prove our confidence in Him by offering up our petitions and praises. "Cast your cares upon Him for He cares for you." (1 Peter 5:7) "Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you." (1 Thessalonians 5:16-17)

While meditating on God's majesty is something I ought to spend more time on, and God doesn't appreciate foolish prayers, I suspect that our natural tendency toward folly doesn't erase God's interest in our "little worries."

And anyway, wouldn't you think that a God who created 228 muscles in a caterpillar's head likes details?